A Shelter From The Storm
by mommanerd
Summary: Emma Swan has a recurring dream. Speculation on Season 5 and Dark Swan.


She remembers the storm that raged back when they sailed to Neverland. Fueled by their anger, it had ripped at the sails and tossed the wooden ship until the enchanted wood of that craft had nearly buckled under the onslaught. She still dreams about it, about the panic that rose up inside when she knew that the fighting had to stop, and realizing that nobody was listening. This is one of those nights, and one of those dreams, and as always, she wakes up gasping for breath, and amazed to discover that she isn't drenched with the sea water she'd flung herself into.

Her hands find the soft mattress of her loft bed and the soft cotton now mildly dampened from the sweat of her panic. There are footfalls on the steps leading up to her room and her mother's worried face.

"Emma?"

"I'm alright. It was just that dream again."

The other woman hugs her and squeezes her hand and offers to stay up and have hot chocolate with her. She declines, knowing that she has to work in a few hours, and she's pretty good at putting these things behind her. It takes a little while, but she sleeps again.

* * *

Her body is pulled under by the churning ocean and the weight of her clothing, and a blinding pain shoots through her head, and she wakes. Her eyes fly open and search for the familiar wooden walls of her room, but it's too dark. Her hands clutch at the bed coverings, but encounter only hard wood. It's cold, so she pulls her arms in tight around her body, seeking whatever comfort she can find. Her head is not on a pillow, but is resting on a coarse texture that looks and feels like burlap, and she remembers. She's under a curse and the fury of the Dark One courses through her. She's fighting to keep it under control, but it's best to keep her loved ones at a distance, so she's holed up here in some old building by the water. She can hear it lapping against the docks and she decides to pretend that the sound is someone coming to see if she's okay.

She misses them all, even Regina and Granny and that annoying dwarf who manages to get on her last nerve. She misses Henry. Most of all she misses Killian. She closes her eyes and thinks about his face; his eyes imploring her to stay. It's what she wanted, so she pretends that she did. She stayed. She falls asleep, pretending that she's somewhere else, with someone else.

* * *

It's overwhelming when the curse breaks. The darkness is sucked out of her, and the sensation is not unlike drowning, when the air is forced from her body to be replaced with the denseness of the sea water. She panics and flails and falls and knows that she's been caught by strong arms and a warm body. Her father's face swims in and out of her vision asking her if she is still with them. Behind her, holding her, is a different masculine voice, cursing as only a pirate can.

The dark magic swirls about them, fighting to regain control. The building groans and shifts as the battle is waged, and after what has to be hours, it's over. She's exhausted and her eyes close and she sleeps.

* * *

A pounding sound wakes her and she feels movement all around, as though the land isn't solid. She hears water and her heart seizes up, fearing that she hasn't been released from the curse after all. "No," she gasps, and she claws for the wooden floor. Somehow, though, it is a mattress, narrow but soft, and she isn't cold – not at all. Beside her is something warm and solid and she touches it, realizing that it's him. He smells of leather and rum and a touch of whatever that wonderful soap is that he uses. His shoulder is firm under her head, and she turns into him, breathing in the warm skin just below his ear. She kisses him there and he squirms, because her tough buccaneer is ticklish. She traces the buttons of his vest and trails her fingertips up to the open vee of his shirt and rests per palm against his bare chest and the heartbeat there that is picking up its pace.

"I'm sorry I woke you, love," he tells her.

"I'm not sorry," she says. She spends some time exploring the contours of his shirt collar and then lower, to find the buttons. She slips one open, and then another.

"It was my hook. It hit the wall."

She frowns up at him. "Why are you wearing it? You don't sleep with it on, do you?"

"Not usually," he says. "It's just that you're here now, and I didn't want to alarm you more than necessary."

She lifts her fingers to his lips to silence him. "Alarm me," she tells him. Killian catches his breath for just a very quick second before he sets upon her, but she isn't alarmed. She's far from alarmed.

Fastenings are undone and fabric is lifted away. New areas are discovered as they reveal and touch and kiss each other. They jostle for position on the narrow bunk, and she delights in the forced proximity. She is beneath him as he lifts to shrug out of his is shirt, and then she is on top again to remove her own sweater. She finds she is at her leisure to touch him in all these wonderful new places, and he isn't pushing her pace. His teeth gleam in the moonlight that glows in ribbons through the small round windows angles across the room. His smile urges her to continue, and she does, with no inhibition. He is hers, after all, and maybe it's taken them a long time to get here – too long – but it's where they both belong.

When they're both finally and completely bared to each other, she melts into his arms, and he shift her around and under and sinks into her. Her hands curl around his shoulder and his neck, clinging to his safety as he takes her into this deep pool of sensation and emotion. Her lips find his and she breathes his air.

"I love you," she speaks against him, and he repeats her words back, over and over and over. And finally the waves break and she gasps his name. He groans against her neck and she knows she has never felt more alive.

After, he holds her, and she finds herself once again beside him, with their legs entwined, a fine sheen of sweat covering them both, and she realizes that for the first time, she's found someone who is weathering the storm with her. She feels her heart beating, slow and steady and alive, and she feels his, too. "I'm home," she murmurs.

"Aye," he says.

And she sleeps.


End file.
